by Colin Dann
‘Toad might have a new mate every year – it’d make no difference to him,’ observed Weasel. ‘We have to look more carefully.’
‘Well now, Weasel, don’t be too sure about me,’ Toad answered. ‘I was rather taken with Paddock, you know. I may just look out for her next spring. But I had no idea you had any designs along these lines?’
Weasel gave a little cough. ‘Well – er – there comes a time. Toad, for all of us, I suppose . . .’
‘Splendid, Weasel!’ boomed Whistler. ‘Are there any more of you sly dogs around?’
‘We rabbits take it all in our stride,’ said Rabbit, almost contemptuously. ‘We have to keep our warrens well populated, you know.’
‘Why?’ Adder’s lisp was suddenly heard again. ‘Does that give you more of a choice for your mating pursuits?’
The others laughed. The rabbits, of course, were notorious for their breeding record. But Rabbit turned the tables. ‘What of yourself, Adder?’ he asked coolly.
‘Yes, my friend,’ Whistler joined in. ‘When will you allow yourself to become entwined in the knot of love?’
Adder despised this sort of talk and scowled at the heron. ‘There are some of us,’ he hissed, ‘who may not have come to the Park with the sole object of pairing off with the first female of the species he happened to come across.’ This was intended as a gibe at Whistler who had named the need for a mate as a purpose for joining in the animals’ journey. But he brushed it aside.
‘I make no excuses,’ he said. ‘A solitary life is not for me. But each to his own, I’m sure.’
‘We haven’t heard from the other birds,’ said Hare mischievously. ‘Tawny Owl may be a crusty old bachelor, but what plans do you have, Kestrel?’
The hawk looked piercingly into the distance, as if raking the horizon with his powerful glare. ‘It would probably surprise you to learn, Hare,’ said he, ‘that I have had no time to devote to such activities, as long as I felt myself to be the guardian of the safety of you all during the daylight hours.’
‘No offence intended, I assure you,’ Hare said quickly.
‘None taken, I assure you,’ Kestrel replied, shifting his rather unnerving gaze to his questioner. ‘And, may I say, now that my services can, it seems, be dispensed with, that I shall enjoy the extra freedom it will bring me.’
‘Very delicately put,’ said Weasel. ‘But I believe you might have been a bit premature, Hare, in your assessment of Owl. He should be allowed to speak for himself.’
‘Well, you know – er – everybody,’ Tawny Owl began uncomfortably, ‘I must say that I have regarded myself as the – er – nocturnal counterpart of Kestrel – despite what happened last night,’ he added hurriedly. ‘I’m not very well versed in courtship procedures, you know,’ he went on with rather more than his usual openness, ‘but Vixen’s idea is – er – a good one, I feel and – er – if the opportunity ever should arise when I – ahem! – well, when I might feel so inclined – I – I should grasp it!’ he ended abruptly.
The other creatures hid their amusement at his discomfiture, but Adder could not resist one of his leers. ‘And I’d always thought,’ he drawled, ‘that the inclination was necessary on both sides.’
Now there was laughter, but of a good-natured sort, and Tawny Owl was obliged to grin sheepishly.
‘I think what I’ve heard is most encouraging,’ Vixen remarked. ‘Bold and Friendly, the part you play in my plan will have a great deal of significance. Your sister has set an example.’
‘Well, Mother, the family den is too small for us all now,’ said Bold. ‘Friendly and I must take our chance as it comes. There are wider horizons to explore.’
Fox and Vixen exchanged a glance. It seemed to both of them there was a veiled implication in these words. But they wisely made no comment.
The gathering began to break up, and the two male cubs dispersed with the other animals. Charmer watched them go without a pang. She had thoughts only for Ranger now.
‘I hope they follow your lead,’ said Vixen quietly, following her eyes.
‘Things aren’t so settled for me as you think,’ Charmer murmured. ‘We can’t forget that it’s Ranger’s father’s death we’ve been celebrating.’
‘We haven’t forgotten,’ said Fox. ‘But Ranger won’t mourn for long, I believe. Scarface was not the best of parents, and I think I’m right in my assumption that Ranger cares more for you.’
‘I hope so,’ said Charmer. ‘Oh, I do hope so.’
‘What is equally important,’ went on Fox, ‘is that there will be no successor to Scarface. He was a natural leader – the others of his tribe are just followers. Such a situation as we’ve found ourselves in can’t arise again.’
‘That’s true,’ Vixen agreed. ‘But I have to confess that I sometimes wonder if we haven’t ourselves bred a cub with a similarly strong character.’
Fox nodded. He had felt the same himself. ‘It’s fortunate for us, then,’ he murmured, ‘that he should include some of our more sensible characteristics in his make-up.’
For Bold and Friendly there soon came the parting of the ways. Vixen’s words were very much in Friendly’s mind. He had begun to see his quest for a mate as a sort of duty. But Bold had other ideas.
‘Shall we take a look around Scarface’s old territory?’ Friendly suggested.
Bold recognized the reason for the suggestion. He smiled at his brother cub. ‘There’s plenty of time for everything, you know,’ he said. ‘The young vixens over there aren’t likely to get paired off all at once. I want to see a bit more of the world first.’
‘The Reserve, you mean?’ Friendly asked. ‘Oh yes, it’s true there’s a good deal of it we haven’t been able to explore.’
‘Not just the Reserve,’ Bold answered impatiently. ‘There’s a whole world outside White Deer Park. Why confine ourselves within the Park’s boundaries?’
Friendly looked at him in amazement and in some trepidation. ‘You’d go outside the Park?’ he whispered.
‘Why not?’
‘What of all the dangers? It’s hostile country out there. Why did our parents leave it to settle here?’
‘Hostile!’ Bold gave a short laugh. ‘It hasn’t been exactly amicable inside here recently! And, in any case, if you can go out of the Park you can always come back in again.’
‘If you’re still alive to do so,’ Friendly said pessimistically.
‘Oh, don’t exaggerate,’ Bold said. ‘I can’t imagine that you’re risking your life as soon as you step through the fence.’
The two cubs looked at each other intently. They both knew they had to separate. ‘Well . . .’ Bold began.
‘We will see you again, won’t we?’ Friendly asked, almost timidly.
‘Of course you will, you chump,’ Bold answered him. ‘I shan’t suddenly just disappear.’
Friendly nodded. ‘Look after yourself,’ he murmured.
‘You too.’
They stood a moment longer and then parted without a further word. Friendly went half-heartedly in the direction of the stream. But Bold’s steps were eager and vigorous. He sniffed the air and then broke into an easy trot. His eyes searched ahead of him for the Park boundary.
Friendly was overtaken by dusk before he had gone far and decided to catch himself some supper. Bold had been right in one respect. There was plenty of time for this mating business.
After he had eaten, he found himself a spot to sleep. He felt listless and rather lonely. There would be no returning to his parents’ earth any more. Even Charmer would be no longer there. She and Ranger would be searching for a new home. He yawned once or twice and then curled himself up head to tail, listening to the night noises. In a few minutes he was asleep.
Bold ran on, exhilarated by his independence. He crossed the Park, running silently through the grazing White Deer herd, to the fence which bordered open country. Then he stalked along its length, looking for an exit. He found a hole and squeezed through it. He paused, snu
ffling the air, on the threshold of a new world. His ears were pricked to catch any new sound. But he detected no strange scents, no strange noises. He ran on through the night.
Early the next morning, Friendly awoke to see Charmer and Ranger standing over him. He rose to his feet, wagging his tail in greeting, and giving his coat a vigorous shake.
‘Ranger and I have been seeking a spot for our den,’ Charmer explained. ‘We’re on the way to look over the area on the other side of the stream. Will you come too?’
‘You never know what you might find there,’ Ranger added, with a chuckle.
‘I’ll come gladly,’ Friendly said. ‘It’s new territory to me.’
‘Have you seen Bold?’ Charmer asked.
‘Yes. He was with me for a while,’ answered Friendly. ‘Then he went off to explore further afield.’ For some reason – perhaps a sort of loyalty – he did not mention Bold’s intention of going outside the Reserve.
Charmer nodded. ‘He’s a law unto himself,’ she said.
The three cubs arrived at the banks of the stream. Already Scarface’s mate and many of Ranger’s relatives had gathered and were continuing the search for Adder under the direction of Blaze. Ranger looked a little awkwardly at Charmer who had obviously guessed their purpose.
‘I’ll tell them what I said,’ he whispered to her. Then he called to Blaze. ‘You’re searching for nothing!’ he cried. ‘The snake is dead!’
The foxes stopped and looked at him.
‘Dead? What do you mean?’ Blaze wanted to know.
‘I killed him,’ Ranger lied unblinkingly. ‘Last night – I found him.’
‘But how do you know if it was the culprit?’ questioned Blaze.
Ranger thought quickly. ‘We had – er – a little talk,’ he replied. ‘I made sure before I despatched him.’
For a long while Blaze stared at him. Then, at last, he said: ‘Well, it seems we’re wasting our time.’ He paused. ‘Our mother wants us to dispose of Father’s carcase,’ he went on.
‘Then do as we did before,’ Ranger suggested, ‘when our cousin was killed. Push him out into the water.’
Friendly was watching the other foxes with the utmost interest. He had marked out one vixen cub as particularly appealing. He glanced at his companions. ‘Why don’t we cross over?’ he asked.
They swam across and Ranger assisted Blaze in pushing the remains of Scarface into the stream. The current caught the body, twisting it round in a spiral as it slowly transported it downstream. The dead leader’s mate stood on the brink to watch it go.
‘I shall bear no more cubs,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘I am old in spirit if not in body.’ She turned and gave an appraising look at Charmer and Friendly. ‘Well, it’s your life now that matters,’ she said to Ranger. ‘Times change. For all his faults, we shan’t see his like again.’
‘No,’ agreed Ranger. ‘We can be quite sure of that. But come, Mother, won’t you return home now? You look tired.’
‘What does it matter where I go?’ she muttered dispiritedly. ‘My life is as good as over. I want no other mate.’
Ranger said no more but led Charmer away from the stream into the area that had recently been the exclusive domain of Scarface. Friendly let them go and began to mingle with the other foxes, edging as close as he could to the vixen cub that had caught his eye.
She seemed to be aware of his presence for she started to look everywhere but at Friendly, in a confused sort of way.
Scarface’s mate turned slowly back, following in the wake of Ranger and Charmer. Blaze and the others followed behind her. Then, at intervals, the other foxes broke off from the main party to go about their separate lives. In the end only Ranger’s mother, Blaze, Friendly and the vixen cub were left.
‘My mother naturally feels aggrieved,’ Blaze said, turning to Friendly. ‘But my father’s death means an end to the fighting and the – the rivalry.’
‘I’m glad you see it in the same way,’ Friendly replied happily, aware that the vixen cub was watching him. ‘My parents named me Friendly and it’s in that manner I like to live. The Park should produce no enmities. You were born here. So was I. It’s our home and that’s all that matters.’
‘It is indeed,’ affirmed Blaze.
Friendly wished he would go on ahead with his mother. Presently Blaze seemed to sense this. ‘Well, we shall probably see each other around from time to time,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where you’re making for. But I must leave you now.’
He moved away deliberately, and Friendly felt very grateful.
‘My cousin is very diplomatic,’ said the vixen cub shyly. ‘I’m glad to talk to you.’
‘I wanted to make your acquaintance ever since I saw you by the stream,’ declared Friendly. ‘What should I call you?’
‘My name is Russet,’ she replied.
By break of day, Bold had travelled a long way from the Park. He felt brave and powerful and equal to anything. In the early morning light the skylarks rose from their grassy roosts high into the sky, pouring out their burbling song. The country seemed empty, wide and challenging.
Bold slaked his thirst from a puddle of moisture and felt a bracing breeze unsettle his fur. This was the place to live. No narrow limiting boundaries for him! He travelled on tirelessly, and it was several hours before he saw the first human. Even then it was only a solitary walker with a small dog – smaller than Bold. The stout cub laughed at the sight and raced fearlessly past the figures with his yapping bark. Why had his parents deserted such a world? Here you could be your own master. He galloped on: on towards the horizon.
Over the next few weeks the new peace and security of the Park did turn many of the animals’ thoughts to other things. They did not seek out each other as they had in the old times and, alone in his set, Badger began to regret his solitary ways. He missed the visits of Mole and wondered where his little friend had got to.
In his dark subterranean labyrinth, Mole was living a new life. He still collected and stored his beloved worms for his appetite was as voracious as ever, but something had occurred one day that had turned his world of tunnels and meals upside down. During one of his periodic feasts, he had heard a scratching noise – a noise of small feet coming, not from above, but from alongside his tunnel. He had frozen into stillness, a half-eaten worm hanging limp from his sharp little teeth. The noise came nearer. Suddenly a hole appeared through the tunnel wall, and another mole’s pink snout pushed its way in.
The intruder pulled its body through the hole and spoke breathlessly. ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said the creature. ‘It seems that my tunnel has sort of led me into – er – your tunnel.’
The voice was a female one, and Mole got quite flustered. ‘Qu – quite all right,’ he stuttered, nearly choking on the worm he had not finished eating. ‘I’m just having a meal. Er – would you like to eat a worm or two?’
‘Nothing I’d enjoy more,’ said the female, following Mole to his store. ‘Well,’ she said when she saw it. ‘I must compliment you on your choice. I’ve never seen such plump ones.’
Mole was delighted but tried not to appear so. ‘I am known as something of a connoisseur,’ he admitted nonchalantly. Soon they were eating together. ‘I haven’t seen you before,’ Mole said.
‘No,’ replied his visitor. ‘It’s probably just coincidence. I was born very near here last summer. My parents were killed soon after. I’ve never strayed far from the area.’
‘Well, well,’ said Mole. ‘How strange. Er – do have another worm.’
‘These really are delicious,’ she enthused again. ‘Do you have a name?’ she asked suddenly.
‘My friends just call me Mole,’ he answered. ‘That’s because none of them are moles.’ He tittered.
‘None of them moles?’ she asked in astonishment. ‘What do you call friends then?’
‘Oh – foxes, badgers, owls, that sort of thing,’ he exaggerated.
‘Oh – now you’re teasing me,’ she prote
sted.
‘Not at all,’ he answered. ‘I’ll take you to see Badger now, if you don’t believe me. He’s my closest friend,’ he added a little boastfully.
‘How extraordinary!’ she exclaimed. ‘Don’t they try to eat you?’
‘Certainly not,’ Mole replied. ‘You see, my friends are rather special creatures.’
‘I see,’ she said. ‘Well, won’t you tell me more?’ She was all agog.
‘Of course, if you wish it,’ he said. ‘But you haven’t told me your name?’
‘You can call me Mateless,’ she said archly.
Mole gulped as she moved closer to him to listen. ‘Very well,’ he said nervously. ‘Er – well, about my friends.’
Then he told her all about the animals’ beginnings way, way away in Farthing Wood, of the wood’s destruction and how they had banded together to help each other on their long journey to safety. He might have made his part in the event a little more courageous than it actually had been, but that was only natural. Mateless was enthralled, and Mole was so captivated by her admiration of him that he completely forgot his nervousness, and grew tremendously in confidence.
The upshot was that Mateless never did return to her own tunnel and that was how Badger came to be feeling lonely.
Eventually, of course, Mole could wait no longer to introduce his delightful new friend to Badger, and decided one day that they must pay him a visit. So he led Mateless (who by now was feeling she should have a new name) down the connecting tunnel into Badger’s set.
They heard Badger snoring peacefully in his sleeping chamber and Mole went along to prepare his friend.
‘Oh! Hello, Mole!’ cried Badger, rousing himself, and very pleased indeed to see the little creature. ‘Wherever have you been lately? You’ve quite neglected me.’
‘I must apologize,’ said Mole, ‘but I’ve had other business to attend to.’
‘Really? What sort of business?’
Mole giggled excitedly and told Badger to wait a moment. Then he went away and returned, bringing a very coy young female mole with him.
